


Later On

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 07:15:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14612508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: After a surveillance mission goes wrong, Jeremy is left to rescue a kidnapped Gavin. There’s a lot they need to talk about.





	Later On

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "fahc jerevin with Jeremy saving a kidnapped Gav" from rhinnie on tumblr, thanks friend! <3

1.

The worst part is the moment right before Jeremy bursts into the room.

The adrenaline is making his blood race, cascading through his veins, and he feels almost sick as he skids to a halt in front of the metal door and pauses. His ears are ringing from the gunshots but everything feels too quiet now; the hollow echo of the base behind him and the heaviness of his gun in his hand. His boots are slippery with blood. A knot tightens in his chest; hope pulling at one side, fear at the other.

Six hours. There’s a lot you can do to someone in six fucking hours. He’s seen Ryan do it, he’s done it himself, and as long as he’s out here, as long as he hasn’t _seen_ , then all of this isn’t quite real.

But he can’t stand out here forever, and with a deep breath and a shaking hand he reaches out and swipes the keycard he took from the ruined corpse of one of the mob members, and pushes the door open.

Gavin’s sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.

There’s a beam of watery morning sunlight filtering in from a grate above him. He seems suspended in it; a bluish light that makes the room feel like it’s underwater. With his arms tied behind his back he looks smaller; a narrow, hunched figure-

But he jolts when Jeremy walks in, cringing back for a moment before he lifts his head and their gazes meet. Gavin’s eyes widen. He spits out a mouthful of red, gives Jeremy a lopsided grin, and says through bloodied teeth, “Took you long fucking enough.”

Something punches Jeremy in the gut and knocks the wind out of him. He starts laughing - a bit hysterically - just at the sound of the other man’s voice. He stumbles forward and crouches in front of him - Gavin flinches when he pulls out the knife, and Jeremy pretends not to notice as he reaches behind him to cut the ropes.

“Shut up, you idiot,” he replies, his voice thick.

“Rude.” There’s a tremor in Gavin’s voice. “Is that any way to talk to an injured man?”  
  
“Is that any way to talk to your rescuer?”

The banter is a fragile, trembling wall, but at least it’s protecting them a little. Jeremy bites his lip as he works. 

He can’t _not_ look.

Gavin’s shirt has disappeared somewhere and Jeremy can see the injuries - scores of lines over his chest and down his arms. Not deep enough to be dangerous, but clearly designed to hurt. Congealed blood around them in grotesque patches. There’s a burn on his upper arm that looks red-raw and has to hurt like hell - a bruised, dark bump on the side of his torso that he knows means broken ribs. Split lip. Blackening eye. Dried blood under his nose. The deepest wound is on his side and looks like a stab - clearly designed to miss any organs, but dark and wet looking. He wonders if the mob wanted information or just punishment.

It’s all sort of empty-feeling, because he’d be angry, but they’re all already dead. He just feels sort of sick and numb, because this could be worse, it could be _so much worse_. Gavin’s wrists are raw when he cuts the ropes, and he hisses in pain as they fall away. Jeremy has to wonder if he knew rescue was coming so soon or if he thought Jeremy wouldn’t notice he was gone - wouldn’t call to check up on him - wouldn’t assume he was in trouble and not just being a petty bitch and ignoring his phone, would go looking for him so soon after everything that happened between them. “Hey, careful,” he murmurs, as Gavin leans forward with a groan as his arms are freed. His eyes are screwed shut in pain and Jeremy puts a hand on his shoulder, careful to avoid any of the cuts. “Steady, steady.”  
  
“Jeremy.” There’s something in the way Gavin says his name - staring up at him with huge, pained green eyes - that raises a lump in his throat. “Jeremy, about what happened before-”  
  
“We’ll talk about it later, Gav.” He swallows, hard. “Let’s get you outta here first.”  
  
“But I-”  
  
“Later. I’m not angry,” he adds, when Gavin’s gaze flickers away. It’s the right thing to say; something relaxes a little in Gavin’s shoulders but it just feels like a fist’s clenched in Jeremy’s stomach. He remembers a rough shove, the sound of glass breaking against a wall, the slam of the apartment door. There are too many _could have beens_ here.

Could’ve taken you longer to find him.

Could’ve been too late.

Could’ve died thinking you hate him.

_Stop it._

He squeezes Gavin’s shoulder again, then takes a shaky breath and tries to refocus himself. He shrugs off his jacket and helps Gavin maneuver his arms into it; it’s way too big on him, hangs off his shoulders and drowns him like a blanket, but his eyes flicker shut and Jeremy sees the way he curls into himself a little. He wants to pull him close, kiss him on the head, tell him everything's gonna be okay now. The sort of soft, soothing words that Jack’s so good at.

But he can’t voice them, not now, and instead he turns to his phone. The call goes through in seconds.

“Geoff, I’ve got him.”  


“Thank fucking God.” Geoff’s voice is high and breaking with relief. “Ryan and Michael are still on their way. I’ll tell them to meet you back at the safe house. Of all the fucking places for this to happen-”  
  
“It’s fine,” Jeremy assures him, but his heart is still slamming. This was too close and he knows it’ll hit him even harder later today, when he really realises just how much was resting on his shoulders. “He’s okay, I’ve got it under control. We’ll wait for your pickup.”

“Thanks, Jeremy.”

Geoff hangs up, but Jeremy stays standing for a moment with the phone pressed to his ear. There’ll be words about this later, he knows - about why they split up on such a dangerous mission, in a tiny country town with no backup. Just the two of them, deep in mafia territory, meant to be keeping their heads low. Right now he’s just glad he found Gavin on his own - and those were the most fucking terrifying six hours of his life, knowing the others were hours away, on the other side of the damn country with no way to get here any faster than driving.

When they started this assignment two weeks ago he’d been excited to spend time with Gavin alone. No one had expected it’d end like this - everything blowing up in their face. A rainy, dark night, Gavin vanishing, panicked phone calls and a man hunt through the countryside.

But it’s okay now. They’ll figure things out. He takes a deep breath and turns.

“Can you walk?” he asks.

Gavin’s sitting there all hunched over and staring at him. He blinks blearily at Jeremy, then smiles again. Fresh blood wells in his split lip.

“They didn’t touch my legs, so I assume so. They sorta just went from the top down! It was very methodical!”

“Gav.” Jeremy really doesn’t think he can stomach joking about it right now, but Gavin just grins at him with blood-smeared teeth and stands, steadying himself on the back of the chair when he wobbles. Bathed in stripes of sunlight, face shadowed and gaunt and bruised, Jeremy somehow thinks he’s never looked as beautiful or as strong as he does now, rising slowly on shaking legs, eyes flashing defiantly in his face like two emeralds. This is the golden boy, even beaten down and barely able to stand, even wrapped in Jeremy’s stupid jacket - he’s still got his teeth bared as though leering at the world, daring it to underestimate him.

“I might need to lean on you,” Gavin says, clinging to the chair. “Lucky you’re the exact right height!”

Jeremy rolls his eyes, but can’t help his small smile as he moves forward and Gavin wraps an arm around his shoulders, leaning heavily on him. Jeremy keeps a careful grip around his waist as he helps him out, stumbling along together. Relief hammers a drumbeat in his chest; Gavin’s body is warm and seems to fit easily against his, his bony elbow digging into the crook of Jeremy’s neck. They struggle out, through dark corridors and past bloodied, broken bodies that feel like a half-remembered bad dream at this point. He feels like he watched someone else kill them. God, there’s more than he remembered.

Gavin’s grip tightens on him as they step through sticky blood and bullet casings. Jeremy wonders what’s going through his head. If he’s aware of how Jeremy went full fucking John Wick on them all - the culmination of those frantic, vengeance-fuelled six hour

He swallows hard - not ashamed, never ashamed, but the feelings still echo through him, the last tremors of his rampage. Hard to believe it only ended fifteen minutes ago. But he shakes himself - Gavin is here now, a solid and reassuring presence against his side, and they pick their way onwards together.

 

* * *

 

2.

Of all the safe houses the Fake AH Crew owns, the tiny flat where they’ve spent the last few weeks is one of the smallest. It’s never quite felt like home, not when there was scarcely room to unpack their suitcases and they’d had to keep the shutters down on all the windows to avoid the prying eyes of Nero’s gang. Most of the tables in the main room are still cluttered with their surveillance equipment.

It feels odd being back here now, after everything that’s happened.

There’s still broken glass in the corner of the kitchen floor, still a spatter of red wine against the wall like a blood stain - the couch cushions still torn up where Jeremy frantically searched for the hidden weapons stash. It makes him bite his tongue even as other memories flood over him, too many moments crammed one on top of another in this confined space. Just the two of them. Just the two of them.

Gavin, hair wet from the shower, hurrying across the cramped living room in a towel while Jeremy tried not to let his eyes linger-

The other man sitting on the kitchen counter giggling at him while he did his reps on the living room rug, cracking bad jokes about how it was good Jeremy was so small or else there’d be no room-

Drinks shared in the little kitchenette. Stacked takeaway boxes on the counter. He knows how Gavin likes his tea, now, and what he _doesn’t_ like in sushi, and all the strange idiosyncrasies in his morning routine and the way he washes the dishes. What he looks like when he falls asleep on the couch. How he smiles - shyly, odd for the Golden Boy, the morning after when he realises Jeremy put a blanket over him in the night.

_What are we?_

He shakes himself. Gavin’s sitting on the edge of the kitchen table downing his third glass of water and as Jeremy watches, he takes two shots of vodka before lying down. He winces at the movement - Jeremy put a towel down, but there are a few cuts on his back that have to sting at the pressure - and closes his eyes. His ribs jut out; every red line on his skin looks harsher, sharper in the morning light filtering through the kitchen blinds.

“Get on with it, then,” Gavin says, with forced cheer. Jeremy pulls out the first aid kit. He tries to thread a needle, but his hands are shaking so badly that he can’t. After an awkward silence, Gavin’s eyes crack open.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing.” He’s embarrassed, throat tight. Gavin’s lying there like a body on a slab in the morgue, waiting for him to help, and he’s trembling like a child. “I’m just rattled.”  
  
“I can do it,” Gavin offers, holding out a hand.

“No!” Jeremy says, turning so he can’t reach the thread. He grabs the vodka bottle and takes a swig and somehow that helps. A second later he manages to maneuver the thread through the eye of the needle.

The last thing he wants is Gavin pushing them away - having to patch himself up like they’ve all done alone at one point or another, swearing through clenched teeth, jamming a needle in and out through their own flesh in a cheap motel bathroom or standing in the shower so the blood will run down the drain. God, there’s nothing more grim than that.

“I’m fine,” he says, turning back around. “Just - give me a sec.”  
  
Gavin’s sat up and is watching him, gaze heavy.

“Jeremy,” he begins, and something about his voice makes Jeremy just somehow _know_ that he’s gonna want to talk about what happened last night. 

“Not now.”

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?” Something a bit hysterical in it. “I think it’s relevant-”  
  
“Not anymore.” His voice is shaking now, even if his hands aren’t. “Job’s over.”  
  
“So that’s it?” Gavin demands. “We’re just gonna pretend none of this happened? That’s a bit hard, fucking _look_ at me.”  
  
He gestures down at his bruised and battered body and Jeremy’s jaw clenches. He grabs Gavin’s shoulder and pushes him back down against the table, a bit too roughly. He hisses in pain and Jeremy smooths a hand down his arm, gently, and then gets to work with a much steadier hand.

There’s something a bit surreal about it. The body he’s been watching the last two weeks taken apart and coming back together under his hands. He feels a bit detached from it all, watching flesh knit back together, wounds disappear under neat rows of stitches, bruises vanish under bandaids. Every time he feels Gavin flinch or sees the muscles in his torso bunch and jump he wants to hold him close, murmur kind words, press gentle kisses to his skin. But he can’t bring himself to do anything. The pieces are being put back together but too much still hangs unspoken between them.

He cuts the last thread and pulls back. Gavin sits up with a shaky sigh. There’s a pause.

“You said you’re not angry,” Gavin says finally, abruptly. So they’re still not dropping this, then.

“I’m not,” Jeremy sighs, and runs his hands over his face.

He turns away to pour himself a drink as Gavin sits up and examines his bandaged ribs. Okay, so this is happening. Now that they’re out of the warehouse and sitting here in this warm room, now that the sun’s up and Michael and Ryan are on their way… it all feels like it didn’t even happen. Just another day in the life of the Fake AH Crew. Except every day could be their last. He gnaws his lip until he tastes blood and another downed shot gives him the courage to turn and face Gavin.

“When I realised you were missing,” he blurts out, “I-”

His voice breaks and he can’t continue, just stares helplessly at Gavin, whose face twists.

“Jeremy…”

“I know we fought.” He forces the words out, reluctant. Never been good with feelings. “But how the fuck do you think I felt when you were _gone_ , Gav? After the shit we’ve seen Nero do… when I walked in there I had no idea what I’d find.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Gavin says, but that’s not what Jeremy _means_ \- he shakes his head.

“You didn’t ask to get kidnapped.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who stormed out like an idiot in the middle of the night,” Gavin says, wryly, and Jeremy has to scoff, glancing at the corner of the kitchen where broken glass has been kicked against the cabinets. 

“I think we’re both to blame for that one,” Jeremy says, but Gavin’s shaking his head now, leaning forward and reaching out to grip at his shoulder. Jeremy struggles not to flinch away; the other man’s hand is warm, reassuring. He wants to lean into his touch, fights not to close his eyes like a pathetic idiot.

“I know it was scary,” Gavin says, patiently, “But this happens all the time. You’re pretty new to the crew, Lil’ J - this wasn’t the first time one of us got grabbed. It won’t be the last. It’s a risk we take. It’s what we signed up for-”

“Not like this,” Jeremy cut in. “Not… not just the two of us, with the others on the other fucking side of the country. You know what Geoff said to me before we left? _Don’t let him get himself killed_. If something had gone wrong that’s on me, because we weren’t focused on the job like we should’ve been. We were-”  
  
“We were _what_?” Gavin demands, a challenge in it - that same defensive scorn that the Golden Boy is _so_ well known for. He’s tense now, shoulders held stiff.

Jeremy can’t answer. His chest feels tight and he’s trying to keep his breathing calm. He’s still not angry, just so scared he can barely think, and frustrated, and fighting the urge to push Gavin away and run like he did last time. He can see the vulnerability in Gavin’s eyes, the anger he’s trying to force to cover it up.

“You think it’s your fault for making me leave last night?” Gavin demands, as Jeremy watches shellshocked. “That’s what’s going on, isn’t it? You blame yourself because if you… if you hadn’t turned me down, I wouldn’t have been out there alone. Well, don’t bloody bother. I don’t need your fucking pity and I sure don’t want you to blame yourself for not wanting me as if that’s what matters here. Oh, poor Gavin, I broke his heart and he got himself beaten up by the mafia- don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse than this, _so much_ worse. This is small fucking fry, Jeremy, so just forget about it.”

He slides off the table and lands with a wince and a stumble; Jeremy reaches out to catch him but Gavin swats his hand away.

“You did your job,” he says coldly, “You got me out of there, so no need to tell Geoff the rest of it-”  
  
“Don’t be an idiot,” Jeremy snaps, and grabs his arm, maybe a little too harshly, yanking him back and spinning him around. HIs heart is hammering, so hard it nearly hurts. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Look,” Jeremy’s voice is rough and he feels as clumsy and fumbling as he did trying to stitch Gavin up before. Talking about things like this - he isn’t used to it, and he doesn’t want to fuck up like he did before. But saying _nothing_ would be worse, he can see that now. He swallows hard and continues, “I didn’t mean what I said. _Any_ of it. I’m not saying that just to make you feel better, or because I pity you, or anything like that. I regretted it as soon as you walked out the door.”

Gavin stares at him - something vulnerable in the way he’s holding himself, hands curled in front of his chest, eyes wide. Jeremy doesn’t know where to look. He can barely bring himself to meet Gavin’s eyes, but the rest of him is a wreck, to put it kindly.

He’s seen a lot of injuries in his time in the crew. He remembers having to help set Ryan’s broken leg after an incident with a malfunctioning parachute - remembers the glistening white of bone and the awful angle it was all at. He remembers the way some of Michael’s burns looked after getting caught in the crossfire of an explosion, and how hard it was not to be sick when he was helping to apply ointment and bandage them. In his old days as an underground fighter he remembers countless nights spend sitting on the edge of the bathtub sewing himself up, wrapping sprained wrists, picking old scabs from his knuckles.

Something about this is different.

Maybe because it’s methodical, cuts in neat rows, carefully designed to bleed but not kill. Maybe because it’s Gavin. It makes him feel sick in a different way.

But Gavin’s not replying, and after a moment Jeremy licks his lips nervously and pushes on.

“I got scared,” he admits. “Things were changing between us and I… I _wanted_ it, but I got insecure. It felt too good to be true. So I freaked out and pushed you away ‘cause I - I didn’t think you were thinking things through. I thought you had to be making a mistake.”  
  
“Jeremy,” Gavin whispers, in a rush of breath. His fists are clenching, like he wants to reach out but is stopping himself. “You can’t make that decision for me.”  
  
“I know. I’m sorry.”  
  
“No, _I’m_ sorry.” He does reach out now, touching Jeremy’s arm - a brief, apologetic motion. “I was upset and embarrassed so I said some pretty shitty things too. Threw a tantrum like a child before I stormed out.”  
  
“You were angry,” Jeremy says, “The way I phrased things came out wrong and wasn’t very kind.”  
  
“Yeah, yelling _God no_ when I asked you out was a bit of a bummer,” Gavin jokes, weakly, and Jeremy can’t help his grimace.

“That just sort of came out. It wasn’t aimed at you, I was… there was a lot running through my mind. But I’m still sorry. It must have felt pretty shitty.”  
  
“Okay, you apologised already. Once is enough,” Gavin says, and finally cracks a proper grin. Jeremy feels something in him unknot and relax just at the sight of him properly _smiling_ again. “That’s good to hear.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jeremy whispers, and finally lets himself reach out and draw Gavin into his arms. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”  
  
Gavin smiles wider, and Jeremy squeezes his hand before holding him close - careful not to jostle his bandages and injuries - lets himself relish, just for a moment, the other man’s warm body in his arms, the knowledge that things _haven’t_ gone wrong, that they just might be okay.

Gavin looks like he wanted to say more - he licks his lips, shuffles forward a little, and Jeremy can feel the tension between them building to a crescendo-

But a knock at the door breaks it, and they both jolt, staring at each other in alarm. Jeremy smooths a hand down Gavin’s back, his heart pounding.

  
“Later,” he promises, and means it this time.

 

* * *

 

3.

Jeremy watches from the doorway as Michael comes up to Gavin, leans in to talk to him - the easy way he rests a hand on the other man’s shoulder, then curls it around the back of his neck to tug him into a hug. There was a time when he used to envy that easy closeness - early on when he first joined the crew, when he wasn’t quite sure where he fit into things yet. Now he looks fondly at the way Michael’s lips curl into that particular half-grin he reserves for his boi, smiles at how Gavin reaches out and jostles his shoulder, saying something that makes Michael throw back his head and laugh.

It’s all very easy and normal. But he doesn’t miss the way Michael’s arm tightens a bit around Gavin’s shoulders as he walks him to the truck, or how his hand lingers over the other man as he sits him down. 

Ryan comes up behind him, dragging a suitcase with all their equipment inside. With three people packing instead of just him, things went a lot quicker. God, Jeremy’s ready to leave this town behind.

“You okay?” Ryan asks, and Jeremy pauses and turns.

“I’m fine,” he replies, a bit defensively, “Why?”  
  
“You look rattled,” Ryan says. He’s not in his Vagabond gear and somehow it makes it harder for Jeremy to paste on a false smile in front of him. When he hasn’t got the scary face paint on, there’s something distressingly _fatherly_ about him.

“Of course I’m rattled,” Jeremy says, grudgingly. “I had to go on a one man mission to save him with no fucking idea if I’d even be in time. That mob was messed up. Some of the shit we saw while scoping them out-”  
  
He breaks off, the words choking up in his throat, and Ryan squeezes his shoulder.

“You know,” he replies, voice low and intent, “None of us ever doubted you. When you told us what had happened, we knew you were doing everything you could. Knew you’d save him in the end. We were on our way here, but there was never a question that you’d be making progress on your own.”  
  
“That’s good to hear.” And it is, it soothes some small, insecure part of himself that still feels like the new kid on the block even though he’s been in the crew over a year now. “I don’t know if I deserve that trust.”  
  
“Of course you do. Got him out of there, didn’t you? And took out the whole fucking gang on your own. Geoff would give you a God damn medal if we did that sort of thing.”  
  
“I didn’t do it for a medal,” Jeremy murmurs. His eyes fall back on Gavin - half-leaning out the truck, saying something animatedly to Michael. He must be exhausted but he’s perked up since the others got here, and Jeremy can’t drag his gaze away from the other man’s shining eyes and grinning face. He’s still wearing Jeremy’s jacket, even now he’s got his own shirt back on.

Ryan rubs his arm and Jeremy looks over at him. There’s something too knowing in the other man’s eyes, something that makes Jeremy feel guilty and caught-out even if he has no reason to.

The drive home isn’t awkward.

Having spent the entire night in a frantic search for Gavin, both of them fall asleep for the entire six hours back to Achievement City, and when Jeremy wakes up - with a jolt, from a vaguely bad dream where he wandered unsettling dark hallways trying to break down doors, certain the crew were being tortured behind one of them - he can’t quite remember what’s real and what’s not. Then it hits him - not just the rescue, but everything that came after. Where he and Gavin ended up.

_I got scared._

_I didn’t mean it._

But he still doesn’t know quite where they stand at each other. Nothing was set in stone, and it leaves him with a buzzing nervousness about where things are going.

Ryan carts Gavin off to Caleb and Jeremy has a long debrief with Geoff that involves a surprising amount of hugs and an unexpected pay-raise, and it’s nearly evening again by the time he’s told to head home and take a day off. But his feet find their way to Gavin’s room in the base instead; he’s almost sick with nerves but he knows that after that awful stormy night he’s gotta be the one to make the first move, to reach out.

He knocks, and _thinks_ he hears a voice telling him to come in, but when he does enter Gavin doesn’t seem to have really been expecting him. He’s got his shirt off again and is standing staring into the mirror next to his bed. When Jeremy comes up behind him, Gavin’s eyes flick to meet his in the glass.

“Thought you were Geoff,” he says, and Jeremy bites his lip.

“Sorry. I can go if you-”  
  
“Of course I don’t want you to leave.” Gavin’s hand rises and runs over the bandage on his side, the deepest wound. The rest of him is covered in lines of stitches like a ragdoll. Jeremy hovers awkwardly behind him. “God, I look like Frankenstein’s monster.”  
  
“No, you don’t,” Jeremy says firmly - Gavin’s lips twitch but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and before he quite knows what he’s doing Jeremy’s coming up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his bare shoulder. Gavin freezes for a second - then relaxes into his grasp.

“Jeremy…”  
  
“Sorry, is this okay?” Jeremy starts to pull back, but Gavin reaches up and closes his hands over his.

“More than okay,” he says, and Jeremy relaxes a little, pressing his forehead to Gavin’s shoulder.

“We all have scars,” he says. “Doesn’t make you any less beautiful. The stitches make it look worse than it is.”  
  
“They’re your stitches,” Gavin points out, and Jeremy laughs. He feels Gavin shiver when his breath hits his skin.

“Caleb approved?”  
  
“Yeah, he said they were decent. Jeremy, about what you said before…” 

Gavin turns in his arms and for a moment they stare at each other. Somehow Jeremy’s nerves have faded; he feels steady and calm even if his heart is still thumping so hard he can feel every beat.

“I want you,” he says, and sees Gavin’s eyes widen. “I want _this_. If something had happened before you got the chance to know that, it would’ve broken me. I don’t want to wait any longer.”  
  
“You mean it this time?” Just a hint of trembling vulnerability in it; his fingers flex and tighten where he’s gripping Jeremy’s shirt.  
  
“I always meant it,” Jeremy whispers, “I just got scared.”  
  
“I was scared, too,” Gavin admits. “But there’s no mistake here, Jeremy. I’ve liked you for ages. Since before we spent those two weeks undercover together. I don’t think I’ve been more sure of anything in a long time.”  


“Good,” Jeremy says, and leans in. Gavin meets him halfway; the kiss is gentle, he’s too aware of Gavin’s swollen lip and how many bruises there are under his hands - but it still sends a flare of sparks dancing across his skin. 

He can’t turn back time, or he’d wish he could go back and do this yesterday night. Wishes he could take back the shouted words, the broken glass, the slammed door and the horrible events that followed. Wishes he could undo the blood and the bruises and the rough bumps of stitches under his fingertips.

But despite what happened, they’re here now, together - and as they break apart he sees Gavin’s lips stretch into a smile and clutches him a little tighter, and knows they’ll be okay now.


End file.
